The heavy pine table in the lower solar was covered in small, neat stacks of wooden tokens, each carved with the crest of a different household division. To Nila’s left sat the winter tallies for the grain bins; to her right, the leather straps representing the horse fodder for the vanguard stables.

Evelyn sat opposite her, a small horn-handled knife in her hand, using the blunt edge to slide three tokens away from the main pile. The room was perfectly quiet except for the steady, dry click of the wood against the oak surface. There were no ledgers open between them today, only the physical pieces of the household that...